


i'm a single cell on a serpents tongue

by bchekov



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Character Study (ish), M/M, really just bruce thinking about things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 22:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12945459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bchekov/pseuds/bchekov
Summary: he hasn’t slept in 46 hours.





	i'm a single cell on a serpents tongue

he hasn’t slept in 46 hours. he did try, once, to calm alfred’s worries, but he couldn’t. it’s not unusual for him to go without sleep for a longer amount of time, his record being 58 hours and 17 minutes, right after the jason's death, but he’s never felt this exhausted. “you’re growing old, bruce,” alfred informs him sarcastically from the back of his mind.

perched upon one of the city’s gargoyles, looking out over the city, he thinks he sees something, _someone_ , between the sites. it stands out against the dark palette of gotham with the loud colors of red and blue. he blinks once, twice, and there’s nothing there. he sighs and rubs his face. he feels so tired all of a sudden, both mentally and physically. there’s a sinking feeling in his stomach, like that of a man about to fly, and it’s been there for days. he briefly wonders if that’s what is causing him distress, but quickly dismisses the thought.

he knows exactly what, or who for that matter, that’s causing it, and there’s not a damn thing he can do about it. he sincerely tried to avoid it, he really did, but there’s only so much he can do against kind eyes and endless warm smiles, and he hates himself for it. 

he shakes his head to rid himself of pointless thoughts concerning pointless feelings, and decides he needs something to do, something that will distract him. he quietly wishes he could rise above it.

he stands up and dives into the city head first.

(alfred finds him on the floor next morning, asleep. breathing a sigh of relief, and one of frustration, he puts down the tray he was carrying and place’s a hand on bruce’s cheek.

“i hope you sorted out whatever you needed to.”

one more look at his face and he knows that’s far from it.)

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by the song demons by the national. title taken from poison oak by bright eyes. amazing songs, both of them


End file.
